


I'd Take You Back A Thousand Times

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Fairy Tales, M/M, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened, Carlos was six, and it was an accident. His family had just moved up from Florida, from his abuela's house with its pillars and rambling veranda, orange trees hanging heavy and ripe, mangroves he could run through with his cousins, over roots as thick as his calves, the brush of the leaves beneath murky water that splashed up around his thighs. It was like he'd born of this humid heat, of air so thick it tasted of citrus and rain that never came, and now he'd been thrown into the middle of the tundra, oxygen thin, freezing cold. The only good part was the lakes, so big and a deeper blue than anything Carlos had ever seen, like maybe they went down forever, descended to the molten core of the earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Take You Back A Thousand Times

**Author's Note:**

> Story time! So, waaaaaay back when, I wasn't one hundred percent sure I was supposed to be posting this. This story was for madwomanpoem's fairytale fic prompt over at lj, but it was lying around my computer for over half a year and my warantee on my laptop was up, and uh, I kill technology a lot. I was scared if I don't back this up on the internet, I'd lose it, and thus- posted over at ffn. That was about a year and a half ago, so I'm assuming it's safe to post here now. ANYWAY, I chose the Boy Who Cried Wolf as my fairytale. I'm not totally sure this is falls in the parameters of what I was supposed to write, but I hope so.

" _Nobody believes a liar…even when he is telling the truth."_

_-The Boy Who Cried Wolf-_

* * *

The first time it happened, Carlos was six, and it was an accident.

His family had just moved up from Florida, from his abuela's house with its pillars and rambling veranda, orange trees hanging heavy and ripe, mangroves he could run through with his cousins, over roots as thick as his calves, the brush of the leaves beneath murky water that splashed up around his thighs. It was like he'd born of this humid heat, of air so thick it tasted of citrus and rain that never came, and now he'd been thrown into the middle of the tundra, oxygen thin, freezing cold. The only good part was the lakes, so big and a deeper blue than anything Carlos had ever seen, like maybe they went down forever, descended to the molten core of the earth.

They'd only been in Minnesota for a few months, just Carlos and his parents. No more abuela, with her gentle chiding, the click of her cane and the scent of her cigars. No more cousins, shrieking and laughing, the oldest of them barely fifteen and already with darkness tinged around his eyes. He'd fallen in with a bad crowd, that's what papi said.

Carlos's father was a cop, and he was eternally worried that Carlos would end up with a _bad crowd_. Carlos didn't quite know what that meant; he'd liked his cousin's friends, with their too-loud mouths and the way they swaggered when they walked, the bubble-fizz of golden beer they'd let him sip when they swung by the manor. He thought maybe they weren't bad guys, but they came from a bad neighborhood, and that was all papi needed to know.

So now Carlos was stuck in the middle of nowhere, and it felt like the sun had abandoned him, had stayed in Florida with his cousins and his abuela and all of his friends. Instead of light and heat, Minnesota had ice, everywhere. It stretched in every direction, all the way up to the Great White North where the Snow Queen his abuela used to talk of in stories dwelled, in her palace of crystal and blood.

For a while, Carlos was miserable, resenting his parents, even resenting his new friends, who were okay, but kind of dorky. There was James, who lived in a trailer park on the outskirts of town, who was kind of tough like Carlos's cousin, but knew all these _girly_ songs that he would hum under his breath when he thought no one was listening. And there was Logan, who was really, really smart. Smarter than anyone Carlos knew. He was always _reading_ and stuff, and barely ever wanted to play.

Carlos had met them at the park near his house, and his mother had been forcing them to have these little play-dates, because Logan's mom was part of the PTA, whatever that was, and Logan and James were kind of a package deal. Their parents had been best friends since like, the dark ages, so Carlos wasn't entirely certain if James and Logan actually liked each other or had no choice. He was betting on the latter; they never seemed to do anything but bicker.

Anyway, summer was finally coming (they told him it was coming. The snow hadn't let up yet and it was late March, but everyone said it would), and Mrs. Mitchell and her husband were going to drop their boat. Carlos didn't entirely get what that meant until he was actually standing on the dock, splintered wood beneath his sneakers, Logan beaming proudly in a bright orange life jacket beside him. James was already on board, helping Mr. Mitchell untie the tethers because he had long, slim fingers and had been a boy scout for like, half a year.

"This is going to be awesome," Logan announced with certainty, "Like, the awesomest thing ever."

"It's just a boat," Carlos sneered, not getting what the big deal was. He'd been on plenty of boats, the smell of sea-salt filling his nostrils and the gentle lull of the waves.

"Not that," Logan knocked their shoulders together, "Those."

He pointed excitedly at three jet skis docked on the back, freshly detailed and shining in the dim sunlight. The lake was surrounded by trees, foliage so thick and mossy that it muted all the noise. Carlos had never been on a jet ski before, but he had seen them, revving engines and roiling wakes. His abuela said they were terrible machines, they gave manatees concussions and polluted the water and woke her up near midnight. They weren't really allowed in the inlet where she lived, but that didn't always stop the tourists.

Carlos eyed the machines doubtfully. He really liked manatees. He didn't _want_ to give them concussions.

On the far off sandy banks of the lake, Carlos could see other people enjoying the supposed 'thaw', even though the air didn't feel any less chilly. There were teenagers sprawled across a park bench, smoking cigarettes and joking back and forth, looking so _cool_. There were kids his age, running wild to his left, screaming and laughing and seeming a whole lot bigger and less pale than Logan, who was scrawny and insubstantial and _embarrassing_. He wanted to call James down from the deck of the boat, because he was taller than them both and looked at least _ten_ , and no one could tell he was humming a Britney Spears song under his breath from all the way over there. Carlos felt small and humiliated, like a geek, like a kid.

Like one of the nobodies his cousin's friends used to mock ruthlessly, bullied out of school while Carlos watched, laughing, waiting for his chance to grow up and be just as rough, just as popular. A big man on campus.

Mr. Mitchell saved him from his growing sense of mortification, now finished with the ropes and offering them a big smile, "You boys ready?"

"Yeah!" Logan cheered, scrambling up onto the vessel, narrowly avoiding the gap between the dock and the boat. Carlos followed more carefully. The water still looked ice cold and foreboding. This whole thaw business had to be a rumor. Minnesota was cold, all the time, a wasteland.

It was pretty though. As Mr. Mitchell backed the boat away from the tiny pier (Carlos refused to call it a marina), he watched, entranced by the way they sliced through the silver gray reflective surface of the lake, out into sun dappled blue green waters.

They traveled for over half an hour, radio blaring feel good pop songs that James couldn't help but sing along to, goading Logan into adding his shy, squeaky voice with carefully placed pokes to his ribs. Carlos regarded them disinterestedly, feeling superior, preferring the company of the great, white puffy clouds overhead while imagining the things his cousin would have to say about all of this, about Carlos spending time with such total dorks. Carlos was bored, and they still weren't at the center of the lake; the banks on the side stayed close enough that tree canopies crowded overhead, but fore and aft the water stretched on for miles, endless.

When they were far enough out, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell dropped anchor and said they could get on the skis, which looked bigger and scarier up close. Carlos examined the orange and purple machine Mr. Mitchell hoisted him on, the soft padded seat, comfier than any couch, and the way his legs barely touched the ribbed rubber floor of the thing. There were scratch marks on the white surfaces between the seat and the controls, and the thing wobbled with Carlos's slight frame. It was almost as big as a rowboat, but felt smaller, less sturdy. Carlos had never been this worried when papi would take him fishing off the inlet back home.

"Hold on tight!" Logan called, from where he sat behind James, who was seated comfortably behind Logan's mother. They had a bigger ski, a shiny, new looking black one. Like a floating version of his abuela's Cadillac. Carlos thought it looked safer, wanted to go with Mrs. Mitchell, but Logan's dad kept murmuring about 'breaking in the new kid'. James was casting him smirky little looks, like he knew something Carlos didn't, and it made his stomach drop.

Mr. Mitchell pushed the wave runner off into the water, and for a second Carlos was spazzing out, thinking he'd have to drive the behemoth all alone, but at the last minute the older man jumped on. His weight made the ski rock unsteadily. Carlos immediately took Logan's advice, twining his fingers into the straps of Mr. Mitchell's life jacket, which was made of the same kind of material as a wetsuit and didn't look like it could float in the Dead Sea, much less a normal, less salty lake.

With a press of a button, Logan's dad started the machine up.

Carlos didn't have time to be scared anymore.

He was too busy having _fun._

At first he had trouble catching his breath; they'd gone from zero to fifty in less than a minute, skidding across the water from the boat straight on into the eternal, never-ending lake. It was like _flying_.

Carlos caught glimpses of dazzling gold webbed over the watery, muddy banks beneath the trees, cresting the cobalt colored waves they bounced over, sparkling diamond spray shooting from their ski's rooster tail; everything painted metallic. He was wet, shivering cold within minutes, but that didn't matter amidst the thunder as fiberglass hit water, the purr-rumble of the engine vibrating through his whole body. Laughter bubbled from the depths of his stomach through his chest to his throat, catching there as they flew through the air, as Mr. Mitchell swooped this way and that, soaking them with walls of cold, crystalline Minnesota water. Mrs. Mitchell, Logan, and James raced along beside them, sometimes behind them, sometimes even gaining on them, and he could see his new friends looked just as giddy, just as breathless.

He learned to lean every time Logan's dad made a turn; otherwise the older man said the ski would roll under water, which sounded cool and terrifying at the same time. He bet the huge boat of a ski Logan and James were on wouldn't have the same problem, but he didn't mind too much. Carlos was laughing too hard to mind, because flying; man, it was _amazing_.

Every now and then the nose of the ski dipped beneath the waves and they were sucked in, beneath the surface of the lake, the whole world gone blurry, only to pop back up through the surface like champagne corks. Other times, Logan's dad would hit a wave just right, launching them into the air like a rocket ship. When they came back down, the shock jolted through Carlos's tailbone all the way to his skull, but it was the best, most exhilarating feeling in the world.

Carlos's hair swept back around his ears, his fingers twisted tightly in the ridged black material of Mr. Mitchell's life jacket straps, holding on for dear life, holding on because he couldn't do anything else. He was grinning from ear to ear.

But his fingers were small, soft, weak. He was only six, and his grip was water slick and loosened by the next big bump. They were going _so_ fast, and they hit it _so_ hard.

His hands slipped, and he bounced right off.

Pain screamed through his back, butt, thighs before he was completely immersed, nostrils flooded, bubbles streaming past his eyes. His lifejacket had been too loose; it must have been, because it'd been yanked right up over his arms on his descent. And then there was nothing but a snow globe world, no up or down, everything light-dark-chiaroscuro, shades of blue, sunlight and shadow and rapidly depleting oxygen.

Carlos could swim just fine, but he was too stunned to kick, to swim for the surface, to even figure out which way the surface was. He began to panic, to flail, seaweed wrapping around his leg or was that a tentacle- ohgodohgodohgod-

Something bony and warm but still somehow clammy and cold wrapped around his upper arm, vice-like, pulling him hard. Carlos tried to thrash away, but he was dizzy, fireworks exploding on the edge of his vision, and his lungs felt like too-full balloons, prepared to burst. He surrendered, let himself be dragged and somewhere along the way he realized he was getting closer to the sunlight, the surface, to air and it was Logan's tiny, strong hand tugging him. The other boy had shucked his orange vest and was struggling hard, swimming above him with steely determination, his whole body outlined with light like a stained glass window, like an angel.

They broke the surface.

Carlos could breathe. And he did, as he allowed Logan to tow him over to the closest bank, which was only fifteen feet away, and how pathetic was that? Carlos sucked in breath after breath after breath, greedy for oxygen, greedy for life. Because even at six, he knew what could have happened. He'd seen pictures of drowned kids on the news in Florida, dragged out by riptides and undercurrents and lost forever in a sea of blue-green, the only thing left of them bloated and bruised and nibbled on by fishes. He could feel in it in the pulsing of his throat, the sick-gurgle as he coughed up water and the tightness in his chest; this could have been the end. He could have- could have-

"I could have died," Carlos cried, bug eyed with wild panic, just as they washed up on the shore, blessed, solid ground beneath his bones, "I could have died."

"I've got you," Logan replied calmly into his hair, his little arms strong and warm around Carlos, no longer clammy now that they were out of the freezing water.

"I could have ," Carlos freaked out, his voice pitching even higher than normal.

"Don't be ridiculous," Logan retorted in this voice that sounded a lot like the one Carlos's mother used when she called him in for dinner, but the tremble in his arms and legs belied how hard he'd swam to reach his friend, the heaving of his chest demonstrated how deep beneath the surface he must have gone, farther than ever before.

"You. You _saved_ me. I love you."

Logan's arms immediately went limp. He shoved Carlos back so that he went sprawling on the sandy, damp bank and declared with crossed arms, "Gross."

"Gross?" Carlos echoed.

"You don't tell boys you love them. Mommy says you're only supposed to say that to people you want to marry. I _don't_ want to marry _you_."

Carlos knew _that_ , he'd heard that. His mother had told him the same thing. But- he hadn't meant _love_ love, like how his papi said he'd feel about a girl one day (and that was _really_ gross, because girls had _cooties_ ). He'd meant love like how his cousin used to touch him on the head after he took a sputtering sip of beer, fond and affectionate and _I love you, little man_. Like family.

Only, he didn't want to look stupid in front of Logan, who was a genius, and maybe a bit of a dork, but he'd just rescued Carlos from drowning, which made him _massively_ cooler than he'd been just minutes ago. All of a sudden, Logan Mitchell wasn't embarrassing at all; he was a _hero_.

Carlos bit his lip and couldn't think of a proper retort, but he was saved again, this time by Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell and James, who had charged up to them on growling wave runners, cutting the engines and jumping to shore with cries and hugs and admonishments (mostly from Mrs. Mitchell, who said her husband had taken 'breaking in the kid' a little too far).

That was the first time.

* * *

The second time it happened, Carlos was nine, and he was so _over_ the first time. He never wanted to grow up, like Peter Pan. Life was an awfully big adventure to waste by getting old and cautious, and he barely even remembered almost drowning. He'd found out that falling off the Mitchells' jet skis wasn't always dangerous; usually it was pretty awesome, and one of his favorite pastimes. The only thing better was trying to knock Logan or James off the back of one. In fact, Carlos had discovered there was nothing he liked better than being reckless, than doing crazy, insane things. Not just because it was the best kind of adrenaline rush, but also because nine times out of ten acting like a spaz was a sure, quick way to get Logan to smile.

Which was also one of his new favorite pastimes.

But it didn't matter how much he liked jet skiing right now, because it was a freezing cold Friday in November, and the Mitchells' boat had been dry docked for like, ever, or at least since early September, and anyway, he had other plans.

Like trying to get Jenny Tinkler to laugh.

They were in gym class, or at least, they were supposed to be, but Carlos had sprained his wrist trying to vault his neighbor's fence and Jenny wasn't feeling good, so mostly they were sitting on the sidelines of their classmate's soccer game, trying to keep entertained.

Carlos had figured out that the best way to do this was to get Jenny to laugh, 'cause it was hilarious; crazy and wheezing, and kind of like a yowling cat. Carlos had never heard a human being make the noises Jenny was making, and he wanted to keep hearing them.

He cart wheeled across the frosty grass, feeling like he was invincible despite the shooting pain through his injured wrist, feeling her gaze focused completely on _him_. Girls never paid much attention to Carlos, which had never really been a problem, 'cause he didn't like dolls or makeup or whatever it was girls did with their time, but this felt new and different and awesome. He liked that Jenny was ignoring the soccer game, where James was scoring goal after impossible goal, in favor of Carlos and his silly stunts.

Even when he landed rather unceremoniously on his knees, a jarring hit that felt like it would bruise all the way through his bones, she smiled and laughed and Carlos thought maybe this was what love felt like.

Afterwards, James tugged him aside during lunch (Logan took special classes, on account of his being smarter than everyone on Earth) and demanded, "Dude, were you trying to impress _Jenny Tinkler_?"

"What? No."

James gave him a discerning look, one that said at nine he already knew everything there was to know about girls, and he didn't buy Carlos's act for a minute. Meekly, Carlos added, "Why?"

"She's totally spastic."

"You're totally spastic," Carlos countered.

James rolled his eyes, "Dude, didn't she like, throw up on you in third grade?"

Yeah, that had been a year ago after a case of really bad spaghetti Bolognese. Carlos winced. Well...

The past was the past, and Jenny was _pretty_.

James was probably just pissed because she'd accidentally _broken his arm_ in second grade.

Whatever. Carlos chose to respond to James by squirting ketchup in his face, which made him march off in a prissy huff to check his _hair_. He was so easily distracted.

Anyway, James just didn't understand Jenny like Carlos did, now that they'd spent an hour gallivanting on the sidelines of their school's field. She had shiny hair and an awesome laugh, plus she ended up walking over to their table and giving Carlos her pudding because she was lactose intolerant, which was obviously a sign that she wanted to be his girlfriend.

When Carlos got home, the first thing he did was a crazy, I-have-a-girlfriend victory dance in the living room, which his mother promptly walked in on. Instead of giving him weird looks or telling him to stop, she joined in, mirroring his movements until they were both shimmying across the carpet. Carlos burst out laughing, and she pulled him into a hug, guessing, "Good day at school?"

"The best!" he beamed, hugging her back, fiercely.

"You can tell me all about it in the car," she told him, "You're supposed to sleep over at Logan's tonight, remember?"

Carlos blabbered on and on about Jenny the whole way to the Mitchells', (which was only something like two blocks away, but it had started snowing, so his mom insisted on driving) and at the end his mother smiled softly and brushed his hair back from his forehead, "I'm so proud of you mijo."

"Why?" Carlos wanted to know.

"I thought you'd never get over the cootie stage," she chuckled and pushed him out of the car, "Be nice to Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, okay?"

"I'm always nice!" Carlos replied indignantly. His mother snorted and closed the door in his face. She waited patiently by the curb until Mrs. Mitchell had opened the door to their house and ushered him inside.

Logan was upstairs, doing his _math homework_ instead of playing video games or doing something cool, but Carlos had long ago resigned himself to Logan being a nerd. He didn't let that bother him, diving onto the bed so hard that his friend shot him a nasty look.

"Logan, wait- no dude, wait, you have to like, _listen_ ," Carlos whined, tugging at Logan's sleeve, "I've got _big_ news."

"Okay," the other boy said warily, looking away from his calculator, "What?"

"I'm in _love_."

The calculator fell into Logan's lap, and he sighed, "Oh, this should be good. With who?"

"Jenny Tinkler."

"I thought you hated her."

"I never hated her."

"Yes you did. When she puked on you, you said you _hated_ her."

Geez, Logan and James were really stuck in the past.

"Well, I don't. I love her now."

"…Okay. Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why do you love her? What'd she do?"

Carlos scowled, because who asked Logan to be so annoying?

"She didn't _do_ anything. That's not how love works, Logan."

"I didn't know you were such an expert now."

"Don't be a jerk."

"Don't call me a jerk, jerk."

"Don't call _me_ a jerk, you jerk," Carlos crossed his arms, "You're just jealous 'cause you don't love anyone."

"I'm sure," Logan spat, "You don't even know why you _like_ her."

For a smart person, Logan could be really dumb sometimes.

"I do too! She's spastic and awesome and didn't scream when I put a worm in her hair during gym class!"

"Right, sounds real romantic," Logan picked his calculator back up, and no matter how much Carlos tried to tell him about how cool Jenny was, for a girl, he wouldn't budge from his multiplication and division and stupid numbers. Carlos eventually got pissed off, and he refused to talk to Logan for the whole night.

Well, that had been the goal, but he only managed to stay quiet for about ten minutes, because then Logan finished his homework and asked if Carlos wanted to play monopoly, which, _of course he did_.

He was still furious, though.

Two days later, Jenny poured a bucket of sand over his head as revenge for the worm, and Carlos changed his mind.

Making Logan laugh was way more fun, anyway.

* * *

The third time went like this: Carlos was eleven, finally in middle school.

He had to fly down to Florida for his abuela's funeral. He sat on the plane in his red school hoodie, traveling on the way to his grandmother's house like a little girl in a story. Carlos wondered where the big bad wolf was, ready to lead him astray. He would've given anything in the world to be taken off course, to be whisked anywhere but his old home, where there was a casket and a body and death.

When he arrived, he didn't get to run through the mangroves, and the citrus smell in the air was overwhelming, the humidity stifling. His oldest cousin was nineteen, and he couldn't even make the ceremony because he'd been locked up for jacking a car.

Carlos understood what _bad crowd_ meant now.

He felt like he couldn't breathe in the sweltering heat, standing by his abuela's casket and listening to his mother sob. His suit was too tight, and he wished Logan was there, because he always knew how to make Carlos smile if he wanted to, if he decided to put in the effort, and at the moment, Carlos felt like he might never smile again.

There was a girl he'd never seen before, a friend of a friend of a friend of the family. She had eyes like liquid caramel, but they were brimming full of tears. She wore a crinkled black velvet dress and pearls, a little girl playing dress up, but her hair was sleek, black, curly, and she was beautiful. Carlos wanted to know who she was, and what his grandmother meant to her.

He almost got up the courage to ask, at the reception afterwards, held in his abuela's house that still reeked like cigars, but no longer echoed with the gunshot click of her cane. Only, he lost his nerve, choosing to hide behind his parents as stranger after stranger offered their condolences.

Right before the girl left with her parents, she pulled Carlos beneath the stairwell and whispered, "I'm sorry."

No one had ever said it straight to him; only to his mother and father, aunts and uncles, like he couldn't understand grief because he was too young.

"Thanks," he'd replied solemnly, and he'd meant it.

Except then she kissed him, right on the lips. The first kiss he'd ever gotten, and it tasted like vanilla smoke and sadness.

Carlos told Logan about it, one day back home, when they were sitting in the park and Carlos had finally, finally allowed himself to cry. Logan's arms were strong around him, just like they'd been all those years ago when he'd pulled Carlos from the lake, and Carlos wanted to tell him all the things his abuela had done, said, been. What came out was the story, about the kiss and the strange girl, and a hesitant, "I think I love her."

Logan just squeezed him tighter.

* * *

The fourth time got complicated.

Carlos was thirteen and they'd just started hockey.

James had been playing for years. For such a priss he had _a lot_ of pent up aggression that had manifested into plenty of fist fights, and his dad had convinced him that hockey was the best way to get it all out. Which Carlos and Logan had been particularly grateful for as of late. After all, James's anger management issues certainly weren't being helped by his parents' current, tumultuous divorce or the fact that he thought his new stepdad-to-be was a pompous _ass_ who wore too much leather.

All of which contributed to the two boys' allowing themselves to be bullied into signing up for the sport themselves. Carlos was decent, which wasn't surprising to anyone, but the fact that Logan was good kind of shocked, well, everyone.

And completely made him the team captain's pet.

His name was Kendall Knight. Carlos didn't like him.

That was an understatement.

Carlos despised Kendall. He was blond and earnest, beautiful and ridiculously popular. He was freakishly perfect.

Logan thought Carlos was being ludicrous. He idolized Kendall, which was _super obnoxious_. They had play-dates and long late night phone conversations, almost like they were dating, or something, but that was stupid because they were both boys and because the one time Carlos had played spy and insinuated himself into their conversation in the locker rooms, all they'd done was talk about ways to make the hockey team better. Bo-ring.

At least Carlos had James on his side. He'd been playing against Kendall's team across town forever, but now they'd just begun eighth grade and Kendall had not only transferred onto James's hockey team, but into their school.

Half the girls in class were vying for Kendall's attention.

Mostly all the ones who knew James's reputation for being flaky and charming and using girls to buy him ice cream, but Carlos chose not to mention that whenever the taller boy talked about how much he hated their new team captain.

Anyway, Logan was spending way too much time with Kendall. As in, like, _all_ of his free time.

Which was unacceptable. Carlos had gotten used to his nerdy once-hero, now best friend's almost constant presence. He insisted on it, actually. He'd spent the past seven years dorking himself down, trying to stay on Logan's socially awkward level, which was hard, because Carlos may not have been good with the ladies, but he knew how to make lots and lots of friends.

Only, it had never mattered until now, because Logan had been the only friend he really needed.

How dare Kendall swoop in and whisk him off to the Knight abode so they could talk about mathematically correct slapshots or what it was like to be good looking to the point of unfairness or girls that were way out of their league? Point being, Carlos had no idea what Kendall and Logan ever talked about when he _wasn't_ there to make a nuisance of himself, and that didn't sit right with him.

He was jealous. Really, really jealous.

He sat on James's bed in the kid's brand spanking new house, like a gingerbread home from a fairytale, which was so much nicer than the trailer park, but which James seemed to loathe with every inch of his body.

The only thing that pissed him off more was, well, Kendall.

"And did you see when told me at practice that I-"

Carlos frowned. He'd thought hanging out at James's house would be a good distraction, at first. Then, the scheming part of his brain had added that it might make Logan jealous too. That he'd want to spend more time with Carlos once Carlos was _occupado_.

It didn't seem to be working.

"-I can't even believe he said that when he-"

He'd been to James's house practically every day for the last month.

Logan _wasn't_ getting jealous.

"-and argh, I can't stand that kid. He's such a douchebag," James emphasized his point with a pound of his fist.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Dude, you were listening, right?"

"Oh, uh…yeah, of course," Carlos patted his helmet, which he'd taken to wearing sometime last year. Papi had bought it as a joke, mostly because Carlos had a penchant for running off on his own, wanderlust combined with this insatiable curiosity about what would happen if he did something no one else had ever done.

Carlos had done _plenty_ of things no one else had ever done. For good reason. As payback he'd earned himself quite a few broken bones, three concussions, and some bruised ribs.

At least, that was the tally at thirteen, _pre-_ hockey. Thus, the helmet. What had started out as a joke turned out to be a _good idea_. He barely ever took it off.

"Liar," James accused him.

"I'm not lying. You were talking about how Kendall's a douchebag," Carlos dutifully recited, "Which I completely agree with."

James's nose wrinkled as he considered whether or not Carlos was telling the truth. Carlos wasn't worried; he was an excellent liar.

Sure enough, the taller boy leaned in close, like he could see inside Carlos's brain and pick out any mistruths, but then pulled back, gleaning nothing. Even so, he stared Carlos down for good measure, "I'm not sure I believe you."

Carlos stared right back, unmoved. He faked an innocent smile and that was all it took for James to cave, to go off running on his anti-Kendall tirade again. Which was all well and good, but kind of tedious.

And doing nothing at all for the Logan situation. There had to be a way to make things right again. Kendall wasn't all that interesting. He didn't skateboard off roofs or throw water balloons full of fruit punch at passing cars or anything at all fun. So why did Logan keep choosing him? Did he have a swirly slide in his house? A secret treasure map? There had to be _something_.

"-then he had the nerve to-" James was ranting, and come to think of it, maybe Kendall was at least minutely interesting, because Carlos had never seen James talk about anything other than popstardom or hair product for this length of time. It was a little ridiculous.

Nothing made James insecure like this. Ever.

There was no reason for it, either. James _was_ pretty. His hair smelled good, like citrus, like a home Carlos couldn't remember very clearly any more, and he was smart, even though he hid it well, and he could be strong, like Carlos's cousins back home, but mostly he chose to be silly because it was more fun and-

Before Carlos really thought out what he was doing, he'd lunged across the bed and was _kissing_ James.

It lasted about ten seconds.

"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa!" James reared back, his fingers splayed defensively in front of him, "What the hell, man?"

Carlos cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out if he should try to pursue something, if this at least would make Logan jealous, and if James was really as dense as he acted. He wasn't really sure why he'd thought mashing their mouths together was a good idea; his mind had been totally blank, and it had just seemed like something to do, something to try, at least once.

"Look- I mean, _Carlos_ , I don't like you that way, dude."

Carlos snorted, "'Cause you like Kendall?"

"No, I- wait, what? No. _No_. Absolutely not. Knight's a total dick."

"And you like him."

"I do not!" James exclaimed indignantly.

"Right."

"At all. I like girls, first of all, which he's _not_. And second, the kid's a complete doofus, and an asshole, and- he's completely-"

"Okay," Carlos nodded, trying to dim his grin, to no avail. James was such a goner.

He must have known it, too, because something in his expression changed as he stuttered, "I- I mean, where did you even…?"

At Carlos's expression, James's shoulders slumped, and he whispered, "Am I that obvious?"

"Little bit."

"Why'd you-" he twirled a finger in the air, indicating whatever had just happened.

"Got bored," Carlos shrugged, and it seemed as good an answer as any, "I don't get it, man. I thought you couldn't stand Kendall's 'stupid smirky face'."

"So you _were_ listening," James's smile turned wry, but weirdly wide and happy at the same time, "I can't. I want to punch him in the nose."

Carlos laughed, because this was brilliant. James, tough as nails whenever he wasn't acting like a pretty pretty princess and completely incapable of playing nice with others was in _love_. And not with a girl, someone soft and gorgeous who would worship the ground James walked on, but with their hockey captain, who treated James like a rival, an equal; who barely noticed that every other kid around bent over backwards to please him.

"And then kiss it better?" Carlos teased, just to be annoying.

"Shut up."

He laughed. He had James's buttons _memorized_.

"You know what, at least I'm capable of liking someone for longer than a week. When's the last time you had a girlfriend? Never?"

"Uh, last month."

"Pssh, you _spent time with a girl_ for like, two days. That is not _dating_. And I'm the one who set you up."

True. James might've been a diva, but there were definite perks to their friendship. While Logan was busy studying for the PSATs (already, the goddamned overachiever), James had whisked Carlos off to pool parties and bowling bashes where he flourished.

"Okay, so maybe we weren't like, in a relationship, but I just haven't found the right girl yet. There're still too many to try out."

James rolled his eyes, "Yeah. _That's_ the reason."

"It is," Carlos retorted.

"Or maybe it's the helmet."

"Hey! My helmet is _cool_."

"Is that what we're calling it now?"

Carlos threw a pillow at James's face, which began a full-fledged fight. By the time Carlos's mother dropped by to take him home, both boys were sweaty and red-faced, covered in feathers.

Before Carlos left James's room, his friend called out, "Hey, dude. You were really just bored?"

The question hit him off guard, and Carlos floundered about for an answer. He didn't like James that way, no matter how awesome a friend he was, and he didn't want to admit that the possibility of making Logan jealous had flickered through his head, because how much teasing would that invite? Truth was, he didn't have a good response, so he grinned and called, "It was the only way to make you shut up about Ken-dall."

James threw another pillow, but Carlos had already shut the bedroom door behind him.

A few days later, Carlos met a wannabe ice dancer at the rink who thought Carlos was like, the best hockey player in the world, and forgot all about making Logan jealous. He had a legit _girl_ who was willingto occupy his time now. Carlos was even thinking about asking her out.

But in the locker room, before his first game, he leaned into Logan's side and mentioned what had gone down, saying, "You should have seen James's face. It was like I'd told him I loved him or something."

"Do you?" Logan's expression was inscrutable.

"What? No," Carlos snickered, "I think I might be in love with my girl though, man. Chicks on skates are _hot_."

* * *

It happened again and again.

Carlos would meet a girl and think she was perfect, think he was in _love_ , but it was always nothing more than fleeting infatuation. It kind of got to be a running joke; how he could fall at the drop of a hat, for a beautiful girl or a Shetland pony or fucking nachos.

Carlos liked making jokes, but he wasn't too sure how he felt about being the constant punch line in one.

Plus none of the girls he liked stuck around long enough to actually _date_ , although that was usually more Carlos's fault than theirs. He lost interest pretty quickly, or accidentally knocked their teeth out, or spent too much time with his friends.

None of that mattered, though, because high school started and it was amazing and terrifying, but they were all together, even Kendall, who kind of joined their circle of friends by osmosis.

At first Carlos was still hell-bent on referring to him as a life-sucking parasite, but then Kendall let him ride a shopping cart around his new job and they _bonded_.

Plus the kid actually _was_ kind of interesting.

Freshmen year went by like a whirlwind. They joined every club in school; even the dumb ones, like chess, where only Logan actually had a clue what he was doing, and the junior sleuth league, where _no one_ really knew what they were doing. They got kind of…popular, even though it wasn't the way Carlos's cousin had been; relying on fists and grim faces and intimidation. The kids at school _liked_ them, for being zany, wild, crazy.

Themselves.

It was fucking euphoric.

Logan got a locker near the first floor bathroom, which was sort of a smelly location, but hella convenient compared to the rest of their spots. More than once, Kendall would duck out to piss behind the gym instead of risking the journey between classes.

James ended up with a posse; a group of girls and guys and androgynous drama geeks that would bend to his every whim. Like his own private entourage; practice for when he'd one day be a superstar.

As for Carlos? He had new hallways to skateboard down, new teachers to annoy the hell out of, and a thousand new pranks and tricks to pull. Kendall took him trapping and fishing whenever things hit a lull, although they were both too soft hearted to actually kill anything they caught. Everything was a chase, a game, from snowball fights to hallway tag.

Everything, except the most important thing.

As the first semester wound to a close, he'd had it with courting strings of girls only to discover they sucked. Carlos was done with fake love, with being a joke.

His friends didn't really agree.

"Jenny's so cool," he said it, at lunch, out of the blue.

Logan was thumbing through his advanced physics textbook during lunch, while Kendall and James bickered over who got the last fry. Normally, Carlos would have jumped in on that, because _fries_ , but it was hard to think about food when he was smitten. At his admission, everyone froze and looked up. Logan groaned, "Yeah. That's what you said six years ago. Then she hit you in the face with a sandpail."

"She _did not_. She dumped sand over my head."

"Mmm."

"But, no- like, it's totally different this time."

"Doesn't seem like," Logan retorted, "I haven't seen you hang out with her all year."

"It is, and I did too. At choir."

"Saying hi doesn't count as hanging out," Kendall chipped in. Carlos glared.

"I did more than say hi!"

"Fine," Logan sighed, slamming his book shut and drumming his fingers on the tabletop, "Enlighten us."

"We maybe kind of…went on a couple dates?"

"What? When?" Kendall snorted, "You've been with us practically every night this year."

"Not _every_ night," Carlos bit his lip and looked at his knees. He hadn't wanted to tell them because it had all just kind of happened- Jenny had been right there, and her hair was still shiny, and she was fun. They weren't official or anything, but it was all going really good, and-

"Carlos," Logan's voice sounded funny, "How many dates have you been on?"

"A couple?"

"And how many is that?"

"Five," he squeaked, because Logan looked really kind of pissed, and Carlos didn't get what exactly he'd done wrong, but it was definitely something.

"So this is serious?" Logan worked up a smile, but it didn't look real, and Carlos was panicking, now. What the fuck had he done?

"Kind of, yeah."

Maybe Logan was jealous because he hadn't had a single girlfriend since school had started, and the only date he'd been on had been with that one girl, and Kendall had kind of bullied him into it. Carlos frowned, wanting to ask, but not sure of the words. He stared at Logan, hard, and his friend was staring right back, angry and disappointed and completely puzzling.

"Do you- not like Jenny?" Carlos was the one who sounded weird now, and he couldn't figure out why it had been difficult to get the words out, why Logan's answer seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Except Logan didn't answer. He snatched up his book and said, "I've got to go."

"But the bell hasn't even-" Carlos started, but Kendall jabbed him in the side and James kicked him underneath the table.

After he left, Kendall reached across the table and poked James in the bicep. He said jokingly, "You haven't weighed in on Carlos's new girlfriend."

Gaze still on the swinging cafeteria door, Carlos objected half-heartedly, "She's not my girlfriend, yet-"

James cut him off, "I have nothing to say."

"Nothing at all? I mean, I understand you guys have some history," Kendall grinned, even though he'd only known Jenny for little over a year and a half. He was sadistic, man.

"History? Fifth grade," James said in a deadpan, " _fifth grade_."

"C'mon, don't cry over a little spilt…blood," Carlos finished lamely, biting his lip. Jenny had gotten progressively clumsier (in a totally adorable way) the older they got.

"I'm _not_ crying," James pouted, and then added in a mumble, "At least not over that. My hair's _barely grown back."_

Carlos watched him pat his head, curling his fingers through the few inches that had managed to sprout up since the lab partner disaster.

"She didn't mean anything by it."

"She never means anything by it, but she always does it. I'm just saying, man; I'm glad you found a lady friend, but- I want nothing to do with this. Buh-bye."

"James!"

"This is my serious face," James pointed, "See me seriously walking away."

"Dude, really-" Carlos frowned. He really was marching off.

Kendall laughed, eyes following his every step, "Alright, so I was there for the- uh, explosion, but what happened in fifth grade?"

Carlos sighed and told him.

Over the next few weeks, Carlos swore that he'd never been happier than when he was with Jenny. Even if Logan and James were all stupid and naysaying, he was having the time of his life. They went to movies and parties, skating and snowboarding (she wasn't very good at _walking_ , so both of those ended in disaster). She was a breathing catastrophe of a girl, and Carlos was a big risk-taker. He was kind of terrified of her, but he idolized her too. He'd never been with someone who could wreak more havoc than he could.

Carlos had found something real, for the first time ever.

Only, he never said so. Carlos had a reputation for being a flake, for saying 'I love you' at the drop of a hat, but for the first time ever, he wasn't voicing how he felt.

Which was how he got dumped at the spring formal.

Jenny looked amazing. She was the first thing Carlos saw when he jumped out of his mom's mini-van, James running face first into his back. She'd grown into her curves long before most of the other girls at their school, which would've made her popular if she hadn't been a one man demolition crew. Her blue dress clung to her breasts and her hips, and he could see his mother considering whether or not to lean out the passenger side window of the van and smack him upside the head for thinking naughty things.

Even though Carlos had pursued a lot of girls, he wasn't all that experienced, like James. All his crushes barely lasted the blink of an eye. He'd kissed less than a handful of people, and Jenny the most.

He thought maybe the dance would be the advent of something more, like _French_ kissing.

Boy, was he wrong.

He gave Jenny a tight hug, even though his mom was still eying him like maybe his brain needed to be washed out with soap. The rest of his friends piled out of the car, hooting and cat-calling and generally being the asses they were, except for Logan who was _dignified_ and stuff.

The gym had been decked out like some kind of rainforest, like a couple of papier-mâché palm trees could actually replicate the humid heat of Florida, the thick citrus air Carlos could still taste if he closed his eyes tight enough. Jenny loved it, squealing over it with a couple of girls who dared to venture close.

She didn't have a lot of friends. Jenny was in tons of clubs; choir, newspaper, and even the school's dance team. But she was such an unmitigated disaster that only a special few stuck it out. Most of them had known her since preschool.

Carlos liked to call them the Gum Chewers, because that was basically all they did around him. They seemed to think he wasn't good enough for their friend.

They were probably right, in retrospect.

The night went okay, at first. Jenny huddled in with her friends at a table while Carlos teetered precariously on two legs of his folding chair, telling jokes and doing whatever he could to make the girls laugh. Kendall and Logan had launched an assault on two rather pretty sophomores over by the punch bowl, although even from all the way across the gym Carlos could see their flirting wasn't well received. And James had been boogying up a storm with strings of girls. It was all going fine until he decided he was done wooing the assorted freshmen, sophomores, and even occasional junior who tried to brush up against him and marched up to Carlos, sweaty and breathless.

"Dude, why haven't you asked your girlfriend to dance?"

"Carlos dances?" Jenny blinked, and then added, "I'm not his girlfriend."

"You still haven't asked her out?" James elbowed Carlos's shoulder with a hiss. Carlos shrugged. He'd tried, but every time he broached the subject, Jenny weaseled her way out of it. It was almost like she was waiting for something, but Carlos couldn't figure out what.

"Of course he dances. He's good, too," James informed her, mostly lying, with a sly grin, "Must be all that Latin fire."

"Dude," Carlos interjected, because he wasn't really in a dancing mood, for once in his life (mostly he was still recovering from a tandem snowboarding incident, which he'd come out of with a sprained wrist and bruised ribs).

"You don't want to dance with me?" Jenny asked sharply.

"No, I do," he replied, a little wearily, but trying hard to look upbeat, "Let's go."

So they danced. And danced. And danced. Jenny only accidentally punched him in the cheek once. It was great. When they got tired, Jenny smiled, cheeks flushed with excitement and exertion, eyes bright, "Do you want to get me some punch?"

"Sure," Carlos tossed back, already on his way. Only, about halfway there he got pulled into a dance off with an upperclassman (he lost, miserably, because despite what James said, he wasn't exactly coordinated. He did _love_ to dance though), and then Kendall and Logan pulled him into a discussion of whether or not they should quit Chess club. By the time Carlos actually made it back to Jenny, he'd forgotten what he'd been doing in the first place.

Her face crumpled when she spotted his empty hands. Strike two.

Carlos immediately went to retrieve enough punch for her _and_ all her friends. Who were looking at him like maybe he was the anti-Christ, but he tried to ignore that.

The final blow came when Jenny sidled up next to him about two and a half hours into the Spring Formal and asked if he wanted to get some fresh air.

"Nah, I'm fine," Carlos tilted his head to the side, "Why, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she frowned, "I just- are you paying attention to me?"

"Yeah," Carlos grabbed her hands, holding them close, "I promise."

"'Cause it looked like you were just making a face at Kendall."

"Well," he hedged, because Kendall had kind of just had a cup of punch poured on him by a really pissed off chick. _Hilarious_.

"You were! Carlos, you're not taking us seriously," she whined, not quite angry, but not exactly happy either.

"No- what? I am!" he exclaimed, but Jenny wasn't having any of it.

"I don't think this is going to work out," she crossed her arms, "I- have to go."

Weirdly, what flickered across Carlos's mind at that exact second was Logan, the day he'd told his friends he was going on dates with Jenny. He'd walked out of the cafeteria the same way Jenny was stalking out of the gym, shoulders hunched, but back ramrod straight. For a second, Carlos stood there, not going after her. Glancing around the gym for his best friend, for a head of spiky brown hair and the kindest, most intelligent eyes he knew.

"She wants a commitment, you know."

One of the Gum Chewers was staring at him disapprovingly, tapping her foot in time to the beat of some terrible Top 40s song.

"What do you mean?" Carlos snapped, and she reeled back a bit, obviously not used to venom from him. But seriously, he'd just been dumped by a girl who'd never even officially been his, and he was kind of annoyed.

"The reason she hasn't said yes to being your girlfriend? She's been waiting for you to tell her you love her," the Gum Chewer paused, inclined her head to the side, "You say it to all the other girls."

Oh.

Shit.

Carlos was off like a racehorse at the track. He hadn't told her? Carlos, the boy who cried 'love' about anything and everything hadn't told the girl he _actually_ _loved_ how he felt?

"Wait, Jenny!" Carlos yelled, bursting through the gym doors and down the hall, running after her, his dress shoes slipping on the slick surface of the school's freshly cleaned floors, "Wait up!"

In the minute he'd stood there, Jenny had already made it halfway across the school. She was small, and she was fast, even in heels. He heard her up ahead, the sound of her sparkly shoes touching down as she walked. He saw a flash of her blue dress up ahead, fluttering as she turned.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rounded the corner and announced desperately, "I love you!"

Except, when he opened his eyes, it wasn't Jenny standing there.

Logan.

His hand was halfway in his locker, his tie rumpled, long and loose around his shoulders, and he was looking at Carlos like he was a complete stranger.

"I- what?" Logan faltered. Carlos could see the tense lines of Jenny's back, her elegant up-do and the brilliant blue silk of the dress her mom had handpicked quivering as she decided whether or not to turn around, to answer. He knew what must have happened; Carlos could see the tell-tale swing of the guys' bathroom door, so _conveniently_ located next to Logan's locker. He could almost imagine the way his best friend had probably washed up, darted out after Jenny had already passed, and then realized he'd forgotten his pre-calc book or his favorite eraser or some shit that no other person in the whole world would ever think of during a fucking school _dance_. It was a ridiculous, impossible mistake, but at the moment, Carlos couldn't even bring himself to care. His panic at the idea of losing Jenny vanished, replaced with something new.

Because that instant, in the dim fluorescent lighting and moonlight, in the long shadows of the hall with Logan in a debonair suit instead of his usual plaid, he realized he'd been so, _so_ wrong.

He didn't actually love Jenny at all. Or any girl. Or anyone but-

 _No_.

Carlos felt like he had ice water flooding his veins. Like he'd been dunked back in the lake during the thaw, but this time he wouldn't be able to come up for air. He was trapped between Logan's gaze and Jenny's posture, his best friend and his wannabe girlfriend and his own idiocy.

Logan's mouth opened, and Carlos watched his own name fall from the boy's lips, "Carlos?"

He wanted to trace the syllables with his mouth, and the idea of it was _terrifying_. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and then, _then_ Jenny decided to face him, the click of her heels like gunshots. Startled, Logan swiveled on his heel, nearly crashing into the lockers.

"Carlos, you mean it?" Jenny asked, her big eyes luminous, haunting. And he wanted to move, to nod, to say something, but he was pinned by Logan's gaze, the accusation and sadness he saw there, poorly hidden behind a façade of relief.

So he didn't do anything. He didn't even meet Jenny's eyes, and something in her face shuttered closed. She nodded resolutely and stalked away, beautiful dress fluttering behind her like a white flag of surrender.

Logan was still there. Watching him. Like a science experiment.

"You should go after her. You came all this way to tell her that you-" Logan cut himself off, like he couldn't even say the words, and man, Carlos had been _so stupid_. How had he not seen this before? Why couldn't he ever figure something out in time, to change it, to make it better? He felt like he was constantly building himself up, creating himself out of nothing at all. Then at the last minute, he realized what he'd built was flawed, and he always had to start all over again.

Logan had never been comfortable talking to Carlos about girls. Logan always forced him to rethink things, to be _better_. Logan had saved his life.

Carlos thought maybe Logan was working some kind of witchcraft right now; an enchantment to steal the air his lungs had gasped for when they broke the surface that day when he was six. Taking back the life force Logan had allowed him to have, all these years. He felt like water was muting everything, like he was still back in the snow globe world beneath the lake even though Jenny had departed. No oxygen, no sound, and Logan the only thing he could see.

He took a step closer to his friend, then another, and another, until Logan had backed up against his locker. Behind that metal door were pictures of Logan's family, of his heroes, of his best friends. Of Carlos.

He could feel Logan's warmth radiating from his body. He could see the orange-amber-brown of his eyes, the terror and the hope and all the words locked in his throat.

"Carlos?" Logan finally asked, and it was barely a squeak.

With stark clarity, Carlos's world snapped back into focus. Logan, the locker, the dark halls of the school.

There was sound and sight and so much fear welling up in his chest that there was nothing Carlos could do except run in the opposite direction.

* * *

After that, Carlos didn't crush on anyone. Girls were complicated, and he suddenly had more complications in his life than he could deal with.

Even aside from the abrupt, frightening onslaught of emotion Carlos was feeling for Logan (made even more frightening by his realization that perhaps not all of it was as shiny-new as he'd initially thought), Carlos had a big move, a new career, a whole new _life_ to contend with.

Summer had come and gone, bringing about sophomore year with all its challenges. At first, the most difficult part had been trying to get Logan to stop acting awkward around him. And trigonometry. That shit was hard. Carlos cleverly ended up pitting the two against each other, guilting Logan into tutoring him and using their time in close quarters to lure him out of his newfound shell of embarrassment.

Then, about midway through the school year, there had been an audition for some big time record producer. James had a dream, and they'd all been supportive friends, ready to make it happen. And when he'd bombed hard, _Kendall_ , of all people, had come through.

James already had enough reasons to like the blond without adding hero-complex to the list.

Once Kendall had gotten them all on a plane to LAX, Carlos realized he was _never_ going to hear the end of how much those two grudgingly liked each other. Because one thing was for sure; Kendall definitely felt something for James. He still obnoxiously stole just as much of Logan's time as he had before, but Carlos knew firsthand that you didn't give up your dreams for just anybody.

But if neither James nor Kendall could figure it out, Carlos certainly wasn't going to tell them. He was still having enough problems sorting out his own emotions.

In a lot of ways, California reminded Carlos of Florida, of everything he'd left behind. When he drove south of Los Angeles, sometimes, through the scent of sea salt mixed and the slightly burnt smell he'd come to associate with smog, he could catch the rich, heady fragrance of orange groves. For seconds at a time, he could breathe the citrus tang in so deep and full that it was like he'd never left, like nothing had ever changed. Then he'd open his eyes and realize that the air didn't sit heavy and thick on his tongue, but was arid and thin, completely lacking humidity, and it just wasn't the same. He still kind of loved it.

The band was a good distraction. They got into more trouble in a day in Hollywood than they'd managed to get into out in Minnesota in a year, and for a while, Carlos could forget. Every time he caught himself looking at Logan the wrong way, heart thudding painfully, he'd launch himself into the Palmwoods pool or risk life and limb bugging Gustavo or mack on girls with James (even if none of the parties involved were interested, male or female).

At one point, Carlos almost had himself convinced to tell Logan the truth, to let Logan deal with the fallout of what Carlos was thinking, feeling. But then he wondered if maybe Logan would tell him that Carlos didn't know what he was talking about, that his crush wasn't real, or worse- that he didn't reciprocate it.

That's when Carlos decided that maybe discretion was the better part of valor. He didn't know for sure what it was he felt, but he was becoming increasingly certain he wanted to keep feeling that way.

Things got thorny, treacherous. Logan and Kendall both got girlfriends. James wouldn't admit it, but he was crushed. He launched himself completely into being as Hollywood as Hollywood got. For lack of better ideas, Carlos followed suit, as much as he could. He was having trouble remembering who he was supposed to be; the little, angry boy in his distant memories of Florida or the kid who'd changed everything he was just to make Logan Mitchell laugh or this new, shallow, plasticized creature with a Hollywood smile.

Kendall was the one who ended up keeping them all grounded, going so far as to stage a giant snowball fight in Palmwoods Park. Carlos hadn't realized how much he missed home until that moment, and not the distant, citrus-tangy childhood place that he'd once longed so strongly for. Minnesota wasn't just a place to him anymore; it was where things with Logan had been simple, easy. Where his best friend had been single and Carlos had been in love with the idea of love.

He found most nights he couldn't sleep. Every time he moved, the sheets rustled, the floorboards creaked; like they were whispering all his secrets. If he squeezed his eyes shut he could imagine they were slick with blood, covering all the skeletons he'd hidden away. Like in Bluebeard.

Carlos thought about fooling around with Stephanie, sometimes. She was pretty, smart, and she obviously liked him. Her eyes sparkled, she had a wicked sense of humor, and her hair was so shiny. Plus she was the only girl he'd ever met who liked zombie movies more than chick flicks, blood and gore more than romance. Stephanie was the kind of girl it would be really easy to fall in love with. James, Kendall, and Logan spent multiple evenings trying to convince him to go for it. But every time he seriously considered giving in, Logan would do something adorable, like falling asleep on his shoulder or letting Carlos teach him new choreography, and in those moments Carlos would realize that there was nothing he wouldn't do for this boy. Even if Logan didn't want Carlos, Carlos wanted to be available for him. It was hard sometimes, when he got lonely, and Stephanie smiled her beautiful smile. Then she shipped out to work on some movie in like Guadalajara or something, and the decision was made for him.

He thought her absence would make it easier, but it didn't. One day he walked in on Logan and Camille making out, her legs wrapped around his hips. They fit together like puzzle pieces, and it hurt, hurt, hurt.

The worst part was, Carlos _liked_ Camille. She was weird, and more than a little bit scary, but she was also gorgeous and smart, funny and talented. She was the first girl Carlos had ever seen Logan flip head over heels for, and it made his chest ache.

At one point James left, when they were back in Minnesota and thought they wouldn't make it. With James gone, Kendall grew tetchy and irritable, which were very non-Kendall-like traits. He tried his best to ignore it, but Carlos saw the strain it was putting on him.

When James finally came back, Kendall was happier than Carlos had ever seen him. After that, Carlos noticed the way Kendall watched James, the way his eyes are dark and possessive, proprietary. He wanted to say something, but he knew it was none of his business. So he just watched, and hoped that maybe they'd work it out.

By the time the band had established themselves as a force to be reckoned with, Carlos had been single and crush-less for going on a year and a half, give or take a few months. If his friends thought it was weird, they didn't comment, and the new people he met had no idea how he'd been back home.

He kept in contact with Jenny, going so far as to offer her fame and fortune just to alleviate his guilty conscious. When they finally sent her off with a smile and a brand new band to front for, she'd actually managed to smile at him. He thought maybe she'd even forgiven him. Except for the whole Camille-and-Logan aspect of his life, things were looking up. Carlos felt like maybe he was actually becoming a real boy, no longer a wooden marionette jerked around by his flickering attractions.

Except, Gustavo decided to set him up, thinking he'd never had a girlfriend before. Carlos let him keep thinking it; in the most technical sense, he _hadn't_. His five second dates didn't really count anyway, and Jenny…well, he'd fucked that up.

Anyway, the last thing he needed was the reason he'd let the split happen getting discovered by the label. The whole every-boy-band-has-a-gay-guy cliché bothered him, gnawed at the edges of his being. Carlos didn't want anyone knowing his business until he was _absolutely certain_.

Kendall didn't say a word when Carlos refused to sing Gustavo's breakup song because they thought the thing with Jenny still burned, and James limited his responses to sardonic teasing. Logan didn't say anything because- well.

Logan had kind of thrown himself head first into science and math and _Camille_ , his geekiness increasing tenfold since they'd first arrived in California. When Carlos met Sasha, Logan stayed very, very quiet.

Hell, he probably thought Carlos was looking to hook up with a hot girl and didn't want to cockblock a friend.

Asshole. All Carlos wanted was to be cockblocked.

The only reason he'd said yes to dating at all was because he didn't want Logan to think he actually _was heartbroken_ over Jenny, which seemed to be the common consensus among those in the know. Plus, Gustavo and Kelly expected him to be sweet, which wasn't always equivalent with _innocent_ , but Carlos wasn't about to shatter their perception of him.

Thing was, falling had gotten hard. Carlos was starting to understand the difference between liking someone and actually wanting them so much it made breathing difficult. Sasha was great but something wasn't right- it was a relief to find out she was a fraud. And seriously, who didn't like corn dogs?

Afterwards, Carlos decided he'd done his civic duty, dated the girl, kept up his front, and now deserved some hard-earned time lounging in front of the Palmwoods pool, drinking milkshakes. Ice cream, after all, was the comfort food of all broken-hearted losers. The Jennifers had told him so.

Not that he was broken-hearted, or anything. Logan was happy with Camille, and there was no way that he could ruin that.

Except apparently they weren't as happy as Carlos had thought. He found Logan had beat him poolside, and looking more than a little forlorn.

"Hey, dude," he plopped beside Logan on the chaise, "What's wrong?"

"James kissed my girlfriend," Logan replied despondently.

And okay, Carlos was kind of confused why James would kiss Camille when all he'd heard for the past couple of years was KendallKendallKendall, and kind of ecstatic that Camille was a cheating bitch, but he knew the correct response in this situation was always, "Do you want me to beat him up for you?"

Logan gave a startled laugh, "Uh, no. Thanks. We worked it out. Why are you down here, anyway? I thought you had a beach date today with Sasha."

"Yeah. I just dumped Operation-Break-Carlos's-Heart."

"What?" his friend looked surprised, "I thought you really liked her. Kendall said you two were like, made for each other."

Carlos winced, but tried to smile through it as he replied, "Not so much."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

They sat in silence for a while, absorbing the sun and the mindless chatter of potential actresses, musicians; kids with ambition all around them. Carlos could feel the warmth of Logan's arm, his chest as they lay side by side in matching lounge chairs shoved together so they could share Logan's iPod ear buds. The music was a dull pulse in his ears, and he began to think that maybe- maybe it had been enough time. Maybe Logan had forgotten all his missteps and mistakes, all the times he'd been entirely certain and been proven wrong. Maybe Logan no longer thought Carlos was the boy who cried 'love' every single time he saw a pretty face.

Maybe he'd forgotten the way Carlos had run away at the school dance when their faces had gotten too close.

It was worth a shot.

"Hey," he sat up, nudging Logan's hip with his knee. A second passed, then two, where Carlos thought maybe Logan had actually fallen asleep in the face of the sun and the pool and the safeguard of his best friend. But he should have known better; the last time Logan had fallen asleep poolside, Carlos and James had drawn a big heart in sunscreen over his chest, leaving him a design of pale skin amongst a whole heap of burned flesh. Logan had been slathering himself in aloe and refusing to wear button downs for close to a month.

"What's up?" he asked in a groggy voice, delicately pushing himself up to face his friend, sitting cross legged. The sun hit his chest, his face at all the right angles, making him shine, golden and beautiful. And Carlos didn't really care that the courtyard was filled with aspiring starlets and rockers and comedians. He said, "I have something I want to tell you."

"Sure. Anything," Logan said, except something about the way he held himself was off, like maybe Carlos was staring too intensely. Logan was looking down at the space between his legs, picking at the frayed edge of the chaise.

Carlos couldn't help reaching out, smoothing his hands over Logan's shoulders, trying to tug his face up so that Carlos could just _see_ him, how completely stunning he was. He felt like he'd missed out on this, on a thousand, million days of looking at Logan, of drinking in the tilt of his eyes, the curves of his lips, the hollows of his cheekbones. Why had he ever been so stupid? It was unforgivable.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, his mouth gaping open, and even though Carlos had decided that he was going to start with softer blows, that he was going to say _like_ instead of the other L word, Carlos's mouth beat him to the punch. He murmured, "I love you."

"Um," Logan said, eyes darting around them, like a deer ready to bolt, "I love you too, man. We're like brothers."

Carlos dropped his hands, because he didn't like making Logan so shifty. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way to snatch back the words, to make that scared expression on Logan's face go away. Instead, he said, "That's not what I mean."

"I don't-"

"I meant I actually, really, honestly love you, dude. Like how you're supposed to like girls," Carlos added, thinking of that time by the lake when Logan said that you were only supposed to say this to the person you wanted to marry, the words of a six year old boy guiding him, "But it's more than just liking you, it's really, _really_ love."

"I- " Logan looked tongue-tied, tense, "You _can't_."

"Yeah, I can. I do," Carlos nodded, trying to look as sincere as possible. He was worried now, that he hadn't chosen somewhere with more gravity, somewhere romantic and _private_. He hadn't even planned to say anything at all; maybe if he'd done so he'd be able to find words, explain how he knew that what he felt for Logan was more than just a crush. That this guy, his hero, his friend lived in his heart, and it was _real_.

But Carlos had told Logan that he was in love time and time again, and now it was coming back to haunt him, a wolf that was threatening to huff and puff and blow everything he'd ever known away.

Logan finally, painstakingly met his eyes.

"I- don't believe you," he said, and then, without ceremony, Logan stood up and walked away.

* * *

Carlos had never really been devastated before, so he had trouble identifying that it was what he was feeling. He'd spent the whole day kicking his feet in the pool, waiting to see if Logan would come back, just in case. He knew he could find his friend up in their apartment, but it felt like maybe if he went up there, it would be something like admitting defeat. Like if he stayed poolside he could hold on to the moment, the surety that Logan would reconsider, come back.

James came instead, "You've been moping down here forever."

"I told Logan-" Carlos cut himself off, realizing he'd never admitted to James what he was feeling. This was the one secret he'd held to his heart, for all this time.

"That what- you like him?" James read him like a book. It was eerie, reverse déjà-vu from that time Carlos had guessed his crush on Kendall in that gumdrop and gingerbread home back in Minnesota.

"Am I that obvious?" Carlos echoed his words from so long ago.

James shook his head, "You've barely made an effort at finding a girl. You were absolutely fine when Jenny came 'round, even though we were all convinced she broke your heart. You dumped Sasha over _corn dogs_ -"

"Corn dogs are delicious."

"So was Sasha," James countered, and Carlos slumped, "Plus you've been making moon eyes at Logan for like, a year now."

"I meant it, this time," Carlos told him, defeated, "I really, really meant it."

James bumped his shoulder, knocked their dangling ankles together in the pool, "I know."

"Why won't he-" Carlos paused, biting his lip, "No. I get why he won't. I just- I always thought love was so easy. I thought it was supposed to _make you happy_."

"Instead you're miserable, all the time," James knocked their shoulders together, "I get where you're coming from with that."

"Still no luck with Kendall?"

"He's a stubborn bastard."

"That's what you like about him."

"True," James laughed, although it sounded bitter, "Very true."

Carlos thought about asking why James kissed Camille, but he sort of already knew. It's easier to make someone jealous with a friend, when there might be actual feelings involved. James hadn't gone about it the right way, but Carlos was positive that he just wanted Kendall to take notice.

They sat in silence for a long time, water lapping against their legs until the moon dipped low on the horizon and James stood.

"It's never easy. The best part of life is falling in love, but dude, good things are never, ever supposed to be easy. That's why they're good."

"It was always easy before."

"Can you honestly say you loved all those girls? That you didn't make it all up?"

"…no," Carlos admitted quietly, because he'd already let himself in on that secret a long time ago. He was like the boy who cried wolf, rousing the villagers for all sorts of things; to cease his boredom, to get attention, to feel anything at all. And the one time a wolf really came 'round, no one would believe him.

He was _fucked_.

* * *

Kendall was pacing and sighing and making a general nuisance of himself the following day, when Logan and James were off doing whatever they needed to do, and it was only the two of them eating lunch in 2J. Carlos was thinking about how lonely it was, not being believed, and how much he wanted to make things right. He had a pretty good idea about what was on Kendall's mind, but all the same he asked, "What's crawled up your butt?"

"No-thing," Kendall threw up his hands, "Except how could James even do that to Logan? He's a horrible person."

"He isn't," Carlos disagreed.

"He is," Kendall insisted, "I want to punch him in the face. And you."

"Me?"

"You. Dude, tell me you're not actually going after Logan now."

"What?" Carlos realized Logan must have told him, which shouldn't have been such a surprise, because Logan and Kendall shared everything, but still- "Would that be so bad?"

"He's had a crush on you since you moved to Minnesota. And the way you are- yeah, it would be bad."

Carlos felt his heart jump into his throat, because no, Logan couldn't have- except then, he thought of the way Logan had looked in the hallway at school, the single image he'd been holding onto for over a year now.

"The way I am? What's that supposed to mean?"

"The way you're so- _you_."

All right. He did not have to take that.

"You know what I don't get?" Carlos muttered, rough and angry. He felt prickly all over, like a cactus, and he didn't like it at all.

"What?" Kendall snapped, his eyes stormy.

"Why you're so mad at James. He didn't even do anything."

"He cheated," Kendall gritted out, "I don't like cheaters."

"So what, you don't like James anymore?"

"What?" Kendall's head jerked up, "I didn't say that."

"You kinda did, dude."

"That's not what I meant."

"Look, it's nice that you're all, defending Logan's honor, but the kid can take care of himself. Him and James already worked it out."

"I know."

"Then what? Do you, like," Carlos felt his gut clench, "have a thing for Logan?"

"God, no," Kendall scoffed.

"Then what? Do you like Camille?" Carlos thought Jo was pretty cool, but he imagined that being besties with Camille required a certain amount of stamina and inherent scariness. He wouldn't want to be on the bad side of that.

"Like that would happen," Kendall rolled his eyes, "Crazy isn't my thing."

"Are you sure?" Carlos asked warily, the horrible, roiling feeling in his stomach lessening.

" _Yes_ I'm _sure_. God, what's with the sudden interrogation?"

"I wouldn't have to interrogate you if you weren't completely overreacting about this entire thing."

Kendall blinked, and for the first time, Carlos noticed how tired he looked.

"You're right," Kendall agreed, "I am overreacting. I need something to get my mind off of- Alright. I know. You need a girlfriend."

"What? No."

"Yeah. You do," Kendall clapped his hands together, "Its perfect."

"It is not perfect. It's the complete opposite of perfect."

Kendall wasn't very good at giving up an idea. Three months later, he was still pushing girls in Carlos's face. Three months later, and Logan still didn't believe him.

* * *

Kendall found him after his latest disastrous attempt at setting Carlos up on a date, during which Carlos had been as purposely obtuse as he could in an attempt to ward off any chance of hurting anyone's feelings.

He'd been hiding on the platform at the top of the swirly slide. Without preamble Kendall poked his head out of the yellow opening, propping his elbows up on the wood and saying, "James told me what's going on."

"Of course he did," Carlos pouted, "He has a big mouth."

"Yeah," Kendall said affectionately, "But it's kind of pretty though, isn't it?"

Carlos frowned, "I wish you'd tell _him_ that."

Something like doubt flickered across the blond's green-gray eyes, "We aren't here to talk about me."

"A guy can hope, can't he?"

"Look, James only said something because I wouldn't stop nagging him. You've been down for like, weeks now. You made our latest love song sound like a fugue, man."

"Love sucks."

"So I've heard," Kendall replied archly, mouth quirking, "Can you really blame me for being a jerk? The way I hear it, Logan has kind of had a thing for you, um, since you first moved to Minnesota."

"He never said anything," Carlos complained, feeling his chest constrict. He still didn't get it; how selfish had he been to have never noticed? How dense could one person really be?

"Well, you've liked him for a while now too, and neither did you."

"Does that mean you finally believe me?"

"I don't know," Kendall nudged him with his sneaker, "I didn't, at first. I thought it was a big joke to you. But James believes you, and it's been a few months and you're still acting like somebody ate all of your corn dogs, so I guess that's enough for me."

"Yeah. I was worried- well," Carlos hated how bitter his voice sounded, "That Logan wouldn't believe me. And I was _right_."

"It's not like you've given him an actual reason to. You tell him you love him without any warning at all, and then- what? Give up? Carlos, I get that you're new to this, but if you really, honestly love someone, you don't surrender in the first inning. Trade in your livelihood for some magic beans, Jack," Kendall reached out from the slide and patted his knee.

"I- have no idea what the fuck that means."

"It means risk it all. Do it for love, or whatever," Kendall clucked his tongue, "Convince Logan you actually are invested in this, and maybe it'll all work out."

"I don't even know if he still- likes me back."

"That's half the fun," Kendall grinned, "C'mon. James and I will be rooting for you."

"I'll think about it," Carlos felt a little warmer, now. That was the best thing about friends; whenever you lost your footing, they were there to escort you back onto firmer ground, "Oh, and Kendall?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should take your own advice."

Kendall's eyes darkened, but he pursed his lips and said, "Why, Carlos. I have no idea what you mean."

Love made everyone a liar.

* * *

Carlos had never been very good at strategy. He was the kind of person who'd throw himself headlong into a situation without thinking it through, and that had always worked out fine for him, as long as he had his trusty helmet and some enthusiasm.

But convincing Logan that he wasn't just talking to hear his own voice was going to require finesse, which wasn't one of Carlos's stronger suits.

He settled on guerilla warfare, which was obviously the best way to go about things. Logan never even saw it coming.

The first time he struck, they were in the sound booth, working on a new song fresh off Gustavo's piano. He kept interrupting their harmonies, yelling something about dogs and dying cats that was supposedly equivocal to the way they were singing. Carlos thought they sounded _fine_ and mostly ignored him, which was how he dealt with Gustavo ninety five percent of the time. As long as his eyes weren't bulging out of his head like some caricature of an ogre, it was no big deal.

Kendall and James were doing their parts, meaning Logan and Carlos had sort of been squished into the side of the booth, waiting to take up the verse. Carlos snaked his hand around Logan's waist and leaned in close, like he wanted to comment on the way their friends were singing without them overhearing. Instead, he used his other hand to lift one side of Logan's earphones and whisper in a rush of hot breath against skin, "I love your voice. It's sexy."

Logan's cheeks burned red, and he shoved Carlos away from him.

Carlos didn't bother shoving back, simply flashing a smile and squeezing in between James and Kendall. It was his turn to sing anyway.

Over the next few weeks, he kept it up.

During a late night talk show, he said, "I love your laugh."

During a swim session at the pool, he cornered Logan against a wall, pressing their bodies so tight and close that it was unmistakable what he wanted, "I love your shoulders. Your collarbone. Your chest. Your-"

Logan didn't let him get much farther on that one, nearly drowning him in a desperate attempt to make a break for it, but Carlos noticed he didn't get out of the shallow end for at least ten minutes. He had to stay longer; the heated Palmwoods water wasn't any match for a real cold shower.

Saying all the things he loved about Logan out loud was liberating; every single thought that had flickered across his mind since they first met, but Carlos had dismissed because it wasn't the kind of thing you said to another boy spilled from his lips. Thing was, he loved everything about Logan, from his brain to the way his voice got pitchy when he was scared to his toothy, brilliant smile. He ended up having no shortage of things to say.

But Logan started avoiding him, bolting in the other direction every time Carlos got close. He remembered what Kendall and James had said, about keeping at it, about real love being hard, but it was wearing him down. He was getting to the point where he felt like he was actually _stalking_ Logan, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship on top of everything else.

By the time two months of relentless compliments had flown by, Carlos decided maybe Kendall was wrong. Sometimes, you had to pick and choose your battles because the consequences got too severe. Losing Logan would kill him. It honestly would.

He complained to James, once and only once, over a nutritious dinner of burgers and fries that Mama Knight totally wouldn't have let fly. She was with Kendall, Katie, and Logan at the doctor for checkups. Logan had gone along because Kendall and Katie both were secretly huge wusses. They screamed if a needle got close, and someone needed to hold their hockey captain's hand.

"Isn't there supposed to be someone waiting in the wings, ready to wave their magic wand and, I don't know, fix all of this?" Carlos demanded of his friend.

James snorted and said, "Life isn't a fairytale, dude."

"I know," Carlos lifted up his burger, "Fairytales don't suck this hard."

He decided he didn't actually want to talk about it at all.

* * *

They'd given a mini-concert for their friends at the Palmwoods as part of a pre-Thanksgiving bash, a sort of farewell to fall. And they'd been on; foot-stompingly, heart-wrenchingly, boogey-down-with-your-bad-self _on._ Nothing was better than having everyone you knew and loved, cheering your name, not even a sold out concert packed with strangers.

When they were done, Carlos waded through the crowd, through the familiar scents of sea salt and coconut suntun lotion and expensive perfumes. He'd seen Logan disappear toward one of the open air cabana tents, where they were serving punch in a big glass bowl and cans of Coors Light from a big red cooler, away from Bitters' watchful eye.

Carlos felt kind of like a prince, forging through thorns to Sleeping Beauty's castle (his favorite fairytale when he was small; it had dragons and fairies and _danger_ , and wasn't half bad for all the kissing that went on), except while Logan was beautiful, he wasn't asleep. It was Carlos who had been dreaming all these years, and Carlos who had amends to make.

He found Logan perched on the brick wall next to James, watching Kendall and Jo dance by the pool, Camille flirt with a new guy, and Lightning the TV Wonder Dog launch himself off the diving board. When James saw him approach, he slapped Logan on the knee and bid him a hasty farewell, flashing Carlos a thumbs up sign on his way past. In return, Carlos jabbed pointedly at Kendall and Jo, and James squared his shoulder, nodding. But Carlos already knew he wouldn't do anything.

Those two would be running circles around each other for a long time yet.

Logan saw him seconds before he got there, but he seemed to slump inward, not making a single move as Carlos moved to sit down.

"You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked, and his voice sounded broken, weary.

It hurt to hear.

"I will. If you really want me to, I will," Carlos vowed, and he meant it. He'd heard once that real love also meant letting go, and he'd always thought it was a moronic saying, but now he understood. For Logan, he'd surrender everything, if he only asked.

"I don't know why I like you. You're a flake. You can't make up your mind. You can't actually love anybody."

"That's- way harsh, man," Carlos grimaced, feeling like he deserved it.

"Can you honestly say that for a long time, it wasn't true?"

"No. Or- actually, _yes_."

Logan stared at him expectantly.

"Because…I've loved you since before I knew what real love was like," Carlos continued quietly.

His friend snorted in disbelief, "Oh yeah? And what's it like?"

"Drowning," Carlos confessed, "Like you can't breathe and your chest constricts and your throat closes up and you're scared, all the time, that you're not good enough. You're not supposed to change yourself for anyone but the thing is, when you love someone, you can't help it. You want to change, to be better, to make the person you love like you more and more and more. And sometimes it makes you like yourself less and less and less, but you keep trying, adjusting, recreating. Maybe I didn't get it at first, but I've been changing myself for you since I was six years old, Logan."

Logan blinked, and he said in a faint voice, "You really mean all that, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do. It took me a long time to figure it out, but- you're the only one it's ever been. Since the day you saved my life."

Rolling his eyes, Logan said gently, "I always told you, you wouldn't have drowned, that day. You're so melodramatic."

"I don't mean physically, dude. Back then- I was angry and misguided and…fuck it, I would've ended up like my cousin, doing twenty five to life in a maximum security prison if it wasn't for you. And James and Kendall too, I think- but, like- them alone wouldn't have been enough, I guess. You're the one I've always tried to impress. Ever since then, I've been more focused on making you laugh or smile than on being tough, or I don't even know, being the person I thought I'd end up as before I came to Minnesota."

"And who was that?"

Carlos shrugged, "Not someone I'd have liked very much."

"Carlos, you haven't got a bad bone in your body."

"I do. I'm just good at hiding it. For you," he shrugged again, "I try to be the kind of person you'd want to be friends with. To-"

"God, we're always going to be friends," Logan stated, like it was scientific fact, " _Always_. There's nothing that could change that."

"You believe that, but you don't believe that I love you?"

"It's complicated."

"You're a genius. Un-complicate it," Carlos commanded, and with a fleeting grin added, "I promise I'll actually pay attention."

"That'll be a first," Logan chuckled, "Okay, so you're-"

"Indecisive?"

"No. That's one of my finer personality traits, thanks," Logan replied, "You're-"

"Fickle?"

"Still me," Logan gave him a stern look, and it was kind of true. Logan couldn't make up his mind about anything new, any variable just tossed into an equation at a whim. Maybe that's why falling for one of his best friends made sense; they were the only constants he'd ever had, "You're capricious. Curious. Unpredictable. With girls, you always move on to the next thing because they're different. Not better, just…different. I don't want to be something you move on from, Carlos."

It was half a kindness, half an insult, and Carlos couldn't figure out which bothered him more.

"I don't want you to be either, but dude. I hate to sound like a total cliché, but we're never going to know if we don't try."

"You've got a point."

Carlos knocked their shoulders together, "I know. My best friend's a pretty smart guy. He taught me well."

Logan smiled, eyes dark, and for the first time in while, really and truly happy.

And Carlos knew perfectly well that there was no kissing at all in the Boy Who Cries Wolf, but life was all about making your own fairytales. He'd paid his dues; braved Ice Queens and stormed castles and become a real boy.

He leaned in close and when his lips touched Logan's, he knew instinctively that he wasn't going to ever change his mind, not about this. Girls had never made him feel so warm, so electric, so perfect.

When he pulled away, he told Logan, "I love you."

And Logan said, "I believe you."

It really was like a dream come true.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, more notes. So, jsyk, this fic was started BEFORE Big Time Fan aired, and I had already written Jenny as a spaz- but not the bits about James. I was like, that's okay, I can fix this. THEN BIG TIME GIRLFRIENDS CAME AND TRIED TO SHANK ME IN THE SIDE WITH A HOMEMADE SHIV, BUT I TOOK THAT BITCH DOWN. Maybe? Possibly? I hope I made the dating without actually being in a relationship thing sound feasible. Because I'm sorry, Carlos has way too many friends in his phone contact list to have never dated a girl before, even for five seconds (and yes I realize that is utterly beyond canon now but I still struggled with it a year and a half ago). HE'S A PEOPLE PERSON GUYS. 
> 
> Um, oh, and you probably want to know what happened to James and Kendall. Um. Okay…let's see. Ha, I should write an accompanying fic. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, GET THE IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD NOW. I would pretend this predates We Could Take To The Highway, but that has different meta, so no. Whatever, James and Kendall break down drunk half a year later at a party and have lots of drunken sex, angst about it for a month, and then have more sex. Carlos and Logan, who are still going strong, are like, 'bout time guys. AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.


End file.
